Death of an Angel
by Vannessa Hillstead
Summary: He loved her a lot, but he had no idea that she had this much impact on the world. [PegasusxCyndia]


Disclaimer: I own nothing.

O.O.O.O

"I really like the view from here."

Cyndia was standing by the edge of the hill, admiring the sun set. Just when she thought that she could see the chapel, which was quite a ways from where they were standing, she felt someone put a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm glad that you like it."

It was Pegasus who had decided to come here in the first place. He had known about it for years, and had been asking her to come here almost since the very first day that they had met.

"I want to get married up here."

Her request, however monumentous it might've seemed to anybody else, seemed incredibly easy to accomplish to Pegasus. The wedding plans were being drawn up, and it wouldn't be too late to include that factor. Even if it was, Pegasus wouldn't of cared very much. He just wanted the day to be perfect for Cyndia.

"Of course," he replied, "I'll get that organized right away..."

"No, no--I'll do that myself," she insisted, "you don't have to worry about a thing."

"No--this day should be perfect for you, and you shouldn't have to be the one doing everything," Pegasus replied.

"It's ok," Cyndia smiled, "I'll be fine."

They stood there for a few more minutes, watching the sun dip below the hills. When it was beginning to get dark, Pegasus took Cyndia by the hand, and the two of them walked back to the car.

The both of them were anxious and excited at the same time. They were going to get married, and perhaps the ceremony would be preformed at the most beautiful spot in the entire city.

It didn't seem as though anything could go wrong.

Pegasus had gotten out of the car, and was holding the door open for Cyndia, when he noticed that she had become very pale. Her blue eyes seemed to be dulling to a gray, and she was breathing heavily. Thinking that she had perhaps just become a bit carsick, he held his hand out so she could grasp it.

She tried to reach it, and as her fingers brushed his, he realized that she had lost her balance. He caught her; and even though she was alright, and hadn't fallen onto the pavement, she had gone limp.

"Somebody come help!" he yelled, signaling the servants that were waiting idly by the front door.

The two servants rushed from their stations, into the mansion; one of them alerted everyone indoors of the current situation, and the other one called the doctor.

Pegasus carried Cyndia up the stairs, and into her bedroom. The covers were already pulled down, so he helped her get into bed.

She stared groggily up at him, "Peggie, we're still going to get married, right?"

He nodded, "Of course we are."

"I need to get up, then. I need to organize--" She made a move to get up out of bed, but that proved to be largely unsuccesful. She slumped back under the covers, and sighed.

"Could you tell them for me?" she asked, her voice sounding weaker than it had been before, "our wedding is very important--it should be perfect."

All he could do was stare. He was shocked at how ill she had suddenly become, and the fact that she still believed that the wedding was going to happen soon--he thought that perhaps, he would need to change the date if she was still this sick during the next few days.

But seeing her lying there, her blonde hair mussed, and her blue eyes losing their happiness, all he could think about was how much he thought that she looked like an angel.

There was some part of him that didn't have any hope that she would pull through. Some part of him had a feeling that this was the end. Some part of him felt that they probably wouldn't get married, and that Cyndia would...would...

_Die._

He didn't want to think about it. He didn't want it to be true. He wanted to say that there was no way that that could ever happen to her--he didn't _think_ it could ever happen to her. She was too young, too beautiful, and too pure.

Why would God want to kill his own perfect creation?

"Peggie, why are you crying?" asked a voice, "we're going to get married soon. That's no reason to be sad."

Peagsus wiped the tears that had begun running down his face, "I'm not sad. I'm happy."

Cydnia smiled, "We're always going to be together," she took his hand in hers, "And I'll always love you."

He choked back tears, before saying, "I'll paint you the most beautiful painting that you've ever seen for our wedding."

She smiled again, "Thank you." She began to drift off to sleep, and her grip on his hand loosened.

"I love you too," he whispered softly, not knowing that she was already asleep.

O.O.O.O

"It looks bad," the doctor said, "she's very ill--she's always been sick, but this is the worst that she's ever been."

Pegasus didn't even hear him. He was staring at the wall, trying to convince himself that the doctor wasn't predicting his beloved's death.

"She can't be dying," he said finally.

The doctor put a hand on Pegasus' shoulder, "I'm deeply sorry; but she's very ill, and I'm afraid that there's nothing that I can do."

O.O.O.O

"How is she?"

Two maids stepped back to allow Pegasus to see Cyndia. She looked as pale as a ghost, and even though her eyes were open, and everyone persumed that she was awake, she did not make a sound. All she did was stare off into the distance, ignoring everyone in the room.

"Cyndia--I post poned the wedding, so you can get well."

No answer.

"We're going to get married on the hill, just like you wanted."

No answer.

He was about to ask something else, when a maid decided to break the uncomfortable silence.

"She's--dead."

Pegasus' eyes widened when he heard that word.

"Dead? How can that be?"

The maid couldn't bring herself to look Pegasus in the eyes, and settled on telling her shoes instead.

"The doctor came back this morning, with his complete report. Apparently she suffered from a rare form of cancer, and appeared to be getting better, and had been on a steady decline for quite a few years."

"How come I wasn't informed of this?" Pegasus asked through gritted teeth.

"Cyndia didn't want you to worry about her."

O.O.O.O

_Cyndia didn't want you to worry about her._

The rain ran off of his umbrella in thick sheets; to him, it almost seemed as though the heavens were crying with him, mourning the loss of his beloved Cyndia.

He didn't have to have seen the gravestone in front of him, and feel so...empty. If only Cyndia had told him, he would have known what to expect, and not to worry.

_She didn't want me to worry about her. And I shouldn't now, especially since she's gone. I should let her rest in peace--she wouldn't want me to worry about anything, ever; and certainly not her own...death._

The world seemed gray without her--she had taken all the color. Every person around him seemed incredibly sad by her untimely death--she had taken all the happiness. And days later, when he attempted to paint that picture that he had promised her would be the best thing that he had painted--he couldn't do it.

She had taken all the inspiration.


End file.
